ifè

Ifè

When I stepped into Ahso I met the music room but you stepped in and the music room met you. A love at first sight between a curious mind and a box of melodies. The rigorous effort it takes to grow as a person and the discipline it took to incline yourself musically; you fought through all that. In you music found the extention of it's soul. You plunged into the depths of your soul severally to touch the peak of our hearts with your voice. Even up to an age when most loose the sense of creativity, you still gave it your all. Your uniqueness never shyed away from guidance. You gave value to people by radiating a part of them in yourself. 

"It is painful because this is not the first and it's more painful that this would not be the last". This was my post the last time a friend died. Perhaps you saw it or you never did. The day you left it came to mind but I was hesitant to make a post like that again, because it's way darker this time. Growing up and hearing about death, I had always ascribed the possibility of death to certain facial recognitions, yours never did fit in. I always saw a long life filled with applauds and ovations for you. And your efforts always ignited that belief. You truly deserved every applauds you got along your way. I could remember the day I visited the hospital to drop my applauds for your fight so far. It was beautiful for me, your eyes so wide open like someone who sees what I can't or someone who was afraid to blink. You made the day lively for me, from singing to fireboy's jams to remembering Bisa kide's life. You told me to wait behind when I wanted to leave for home. I did because that was an unusual request. Then came that question. 

"Kosi kee ka arum di?". Questions...you always had them. This question still sounds same in my mind as the day I first heard it. At that moment as I tried to answer the question, I looked around to see the people who have been here with you all along. And in answering that question I understood how it breaks their hearts  to constantly tell you what they believe, in place of what they know. What they were for you at that moment I could only wish to be. Dying is a process and their presence made it a bit beautiful. I recalled the little conversation I had with your brother before I left that day, his eyes could tell how painful love is. I tried to cheer him up and he gave a crooked smile. As I was leaving I asked myself. If this pain was this deep for a brother, what then of parents, who close chapters of their lifes when their children step into the world. Or friends who now feel numb, but the laughs they once shared with you was so hard they always thought they would die laughing. Loved ones whose home became whenever they were with you. 

Ifè, you always fought. From the first kick in the womb, to the pages of  Handel's messiah, to the hearts and souls you touched with yours, up until your last breath. Your death ended my advent, I could still remember that day. Awkward stares at everybody. "This could be you", never sounded this real before. But truly this story of yours was written by the heavenly narrator. He finished it up, closed it, shed a few tears and titled it "the boy who sang his soul". Reflecting on the nights you waited on the morning like a watchman or the night you clinged on family and friends as lamplights is painful. But now reflecting on how Such nights would never be again and on how you'd neither need lamplight nor sunlight, serves as Consolation. To know you is to know that a lifetime with you would not be enough, to know you is to know that where you are now goes without saying. You once threaded this path with us, now that you fly ;higher than time, help us navigate through it.